To Be Free
by thenewlochlomond
Summary: Originally titled The Nearest and Dearest on my old account, this is a reworked, stillinprogress tale including various characters from Oliver Twist. Rating is simply for language...Not really much at all, now I think of it. Pleasseee review.
1. In Which the Author Returns

**In Which the Author Returns**

**And let me tell you, I return whole-heartedly.**

**I mentioned this in my profile, but I used to be under the name "lochlomond." Unfortunately, I have totally forgotten my password and tried everything I could think of to remember it. Buh. It doesn't matter, though…I think I need a fresh start.**

**I began writing this story at the age…eh…maybe fourteen to fifteen and then disappeared for the longest time—mainly do to my crashed computer and my own heartbrokenness at the loss of my unfinished story. **

**At eighteen, I am now back to revise and continue writing. My format hasn't changed much…perhaps a slightly larger vocabulary and wotnot. **

**First, I will post the first seven chapters I had already written…but a revised edition. As I have not yet revised them, I don't know if this means a significant change…but I doubt it does. Maybe just a bit of re-working sentences. However, in the mode of tradition…I will keep my original Author's notes and disclaimers on the seven chapters that have been saved thanks to They make me smile. Although, now that I think about it, I may add extra notes in between them…They'll be in italics…look out for my old self speaking up! **

**The most unfortunate event of my crashed computer however, is my loss of my end goal…I'm no good at outlining…I just put down the end… And I can't remember it. I'm racking my brain for what ever I was thinking of…but meh. **

**I think I may have it though…I'm getting there… I think it's slowly coming to me.**

**Oh…and I'm including the preface with this so…here goes.**

**--------------------------------------------------**

". . . I only ask to be free. The butterflies are free.

Mankind will surely not deny to Harold

Skimpole what it concedes to the butterflies."

--Charles Dickens, _Bleak House_

**Preface: In Which the Girl Appears**

**Disclaimer: Most of this belongs to whoever owns Dickens' stuff now, so don't sue me for anything… Please.**

**Author's Note: All books are special in their own individual way, but classics are especially special because they are immortal. Even so, classics have every right to also be mutilated or at least changed by a variety of fans. This story is my attempt to do so. If you dislike the "present tense" stuff, do not worry. This is just my preface. The real stuff is all past tense. Well… Here goes.**

**--------------------------------------------------**

The girl stands by the marker, looking at it curiously.

Her black hair is pulled back by a purple band that matches the wide and thick array of her layered skirts. Large brown eyes mix-match a narrow nose and pixie-like face framed with straying hairs. Looking at her, one might be confused. It is not as though she is ugly. Her features, individually, can be described as lovely by some…but forced together they create a rogue look that can only be described as tricky.

She lays a dark, thin hand on the stone marker and traces the harsh, thick writing.

**_London. 3 miles._**

The rattling of a cart can be heard approaching the road. Its heavy wheels bouncing on stones and rolling through ditches are loud, but nothing compared to the sound of the driver who is yelling curses at the "hideously slow" horse.

The cart, horse, and driver suddenly appear over the hill, driving straight for the wild-eyed girl. In a flurry of skirts and a flick of long black hair, the girl disappears; her brown eyes the last to fade away.

Sir Cart Driver, intent on controlling his horse while beating it, does not notice his potato sacks moving to allow more room for his newest and largest passenger.

_The last three are the longest and hardest._


	2. In Which She Meets He

**In Which She Meets He**

**(Because not every one has read the Oliver Twist book, this is going to be much closer to the musical and the Disney movie, though it will have a splattering of book and bunches of made-up stuff in between.)**

**Disclaimer: I absolutely own nothing except the wording and my made-up character. **

**Extra: No one has said anything yet about it but I have a feeling that someone or another is going to comment about a Mary Sue. The truth is, people, you can't have a girl main character without her having at least one likeable thing. Perhaps mine is a bit MORE likeable, but have you _ever_ found a book with a main character girl who wasn't in the tiniest bit a Mary Sue? _(New, eighteen-year-old-author's note: Terry Pratchett's female characters don't count. He's pure genius.)_ Another point, my character may be Mary-Sue-ish, but at least she doesn't go around wearing armor and carrying a large broadsword while still maintaining a small waist and perfect figure. _Those_ are the ridiculous Mary Sues.**

**Welp, back to the story! Here is my rather descriptive and slow Chapter 1**.

**--------------------------------------------------**

A small breeze drifted through the Dodger's strangled and tangled hair, trying to lift it into the cold air. After failing miserably, the naïve gust of air gave up and went to fly up the petticoats of a preposterously tall and heavy-weighted lady who was losing her silk purse to the thin hands of a dirty, gypsy-skirted girl.

The Artful Dodger's eyebrows rose slightly over his deep blue eyes as the grimy, immoral lass and lovely pink, silk purse disappeared into the deep throng of the mixed crowd of London. All kinds prospered here, but they all had a city air, a certain high class grace of thievery. The girl had the definite feel of a petty thief from a small village… But who was he to judge on pettiness? After all, Oliver turned out alright.

----

_Do you know what peaching is?_

_Yes, Dodger. It's telling._

_It's tattling. Peaching is the worst thing you can do._

_I'd never peach on **you**, Dodger. You're my friend._

_All friends is are backstabbers, Oliver._

_----_

Suddenly, one of the Dodger's hands snapped out and came in contact with a thin, fragile wrist attached to a dark hand that was receding from his pocket with a handkerchief and a small, copper coin. He quickly whirled around to look down into the face of the girl he had seen.

"You're taller than I thought you were," his smooth voice sounded like one of a gentleman, not a tramp.

The black haired lass looked up in surprise, causing Dodger to smirk. The girl obviously thought she was good at this sort of thing. She tried to struggle free but soon gave up and began to beg in a chagrined tone, her almost Cockney accent pushing into her quiet speech.

"Aoow! I'm so sorry, sir. I didn't mean to…I mean, it wasn't…Well, the truth is… I jest saw the thing a'lyin' there an' thought a fine gennle-man had dropped it and wouldn't need it."

Dodger rolled his eyes. "Then what was your hand doing in my pocket?"

"Ai…ummm…aoow….Ahh…"

"You're not very good at fibbin' are you?"

The girl looked slowly down at her feet and shook her head. "I'm 'fraid not, sir."

"Good. I hate not knowing whether people are telling me the truth or lying. Well, come on then."

The lass frowned slightly and looked back up, confused. "Wot?"

The Dodger sighed, his warm breath exciting the straight brown hair hanging in front of his dirty face.

"You need a place to stay for a bit?"

"Well yes, but how..."

'Then follow me."

The girl blinked gradually and then, glancing around a bit hurriedly, slipped after Dodger behind a large stall of fruit and into the inside world of London.

_-------------------------------------------_

_When you're in trouble, follow the thief, love. He always knows where to hide._


	3. In Which Her Gender Is Confused

**In Which Her Gender is Confused**

**Disclaimer: No, I do not own anything! Nothing! Alright? NOTHING AT ALL!**

**Author's Note: I know how much everyone hates this and it drives me crazy (well, as crazier as I can get, anyways) but I will not post the third chapter until I get at least 3 reviews. I'm not very ambitious…Just three…..a pitiful three? Pretty please? I really just need feed-back on my writing techniques, etc.**

**Oh, by the way. If you see a longer section of italicized text (_this is italicized)_ then it's a flashback from either the Dodger or Aster's point of view. Heh. Aster's the girl…obviously.**

**--------------------------------------------------**

"What your name, girl?"

"It's Aster, boy."

Dodger smiled quietly at the girl's flashy spark of life. His mood a bit lightened, Dodger turned and gave an elegant bow.

"The name's Jack Dawkins. But me nearest and dearest call me Dodger… The Artful Dodger."

Aster's dry, wry voice stung quickly. "I can nae wonder why, Mr. Dawkins." Her sarcasm dripped slowly off of her thin, pressed lips. The Dodger had been "kind" enough to show her how he had fit all the things he had stolen (that she herself had stolen) from her. His large coat had enough room to bloody well fit _her_ into it.

The Dodger grinned and turned back around to continue walking down the alleyway.

"Let me warn you, Aster. Ever since… Ever since a lovely lady named Nancy died, me and my boys have been living alone and only going out to take whatever we need."

Aster raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"And the boys'll probably seem a bit uneasy with a girl in their midst. Well…at least the more moral ones. Some of the ones about our age will be quite alright, but the others might be sugges-"

The black-haired girl cut him off. "Do nae worry, Mister Dawkins—"

"It's Dodger-"

"—Mister Dawkins, I will nae do anything to make the poor dears uncomfortable. They'll be quite a'ight."

'Mr. Dawkins' only replied with a small shake of his head and a quiet mutter. "It's not them 'poor dears' I'm worried about, thick-head."

If Aster heard, she gracefully ignored his comment and held her head high up, looking all the world like a proud lady who has donned rags and decided to (royally) crawl and roll through the mud.

The Dodger hid his grin and began to walk back down the thin and hidden street. He breathed deeply and smiled like a man returning to a long-lost love.

"We're almost there. Can't you smell those sausages?"

Aster followed his lead and took a deep breath through her nose. Her brown eyes sparkled happily and her face broke into a beaming smile at the spicy-sweet smell of sausages and sauce.

"Smells loverly."

"Lovely."

"Loverly."

"Lovely."

"Forget it."

**--------------------------------------------------**

The Dodger knocked on the wooden door in a pattern while Aster looked around.

The safe place was a large building hidden behind more deserted large buildings far and deep in the middle of London. A small plank bridge crossed the stream that went by it and led to the flight of stairs that showed the way to the wooden door of the "home." The place seemed dark and dismal, yet radiated a sort of unhappy love about it. Aster decided immediately that she liked the place. No one would find her here.

A young boy's voice broke her thoughts and replied to the Dodger's patterned knock. "Death at the door?"

Dodger replied with an equally strange answer. "Only his little rat thief."

"There's two of you down there. Who's the other?"

----

"_A new pal," replied Jack Dawkins, pulling Oliver forward.  
"Where did he come from?"  
"Greenland. Is Fagin up stairs?"   
"Yes, he's a sortin' the wipes. Up with you!"_

_----_

"Jack's friend is to be treated with the utmost courtesy!" Dodger's rich voice floated to the large, shadow-covered building, pulling him back from his sad memoirs.

"Oh, a'right, then, Dodger! Come on chaps! Dodger's back and he's brought us a new boy!"

Dodger smirked in response to the immediate assumption that his protégée was male. He entered before Aster and grinned happily, hugging and laughing with the lads who were so happy to see him. Even the elder ones who were his peers seemed to rely on him after Fagin had been arrested and went crazy in jail. They slapped backs, tousled hair and knocked each other about, laughing the whole while.

Aster saw him among his comrades and smiled to herself, softly. So this Dodger character was not as tough as he made himself out to be. She walked fully into the building and approached the mass of boys, not really wanting to disturb the moment…well, at least just not knowing how to do so.

The boys, hearing the faint sound of boots on wood, turned quickly to size up the latest member and gasped in shock. One of the youngest boys, about six, turned and tugged on the sleeve of an older one.

"Why is the new boy wearing skirts, Andrew?"

"Bugger it. That's not a boy in skirts, Roger, that's a **_girl_**!"

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"_Thieves and murderers is almost always happy, dearie. They know they is goin' to die sooner or later and they show the world they do nae care." _

"_I'm gonna be thief, mummy! Jest like you is and daddy was." _

"_I hope not, love. No one respects gypsies and thieves. You have a brain, you can lead a better life."_


	4. In Which He Accepts She

**In Which He Accepts She**

**Disclaimer: AI! huggles self I own nothing but me and my computer…. And I don't even think I own that.**

**Author's Note: **

**I know, I know—I promised to write this chapter if I got three reviews and I did, but I still felt cheated, so I waited a bit. I'm so terribly sorry. Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom fans—Pirates of the Caribbean is a MUST SEE! Not only is it a great movie—it's got great actors and actresses. Personally, I thought they just threw Orli in there because he was pretty but he can act alright! I have decided that Aster's name is pronounced 'A-ztar', unlike its original pronunciation. _(18 year old self: Not quite sure about that one, younger self…Makes me think of Az-tecs. And Pirates 2 came out today and is amazing…except for the million plotlines…!) _So there.… :P Please do not complain about the length of my chapters… They're short for a reason. The main one is—there is one important bit of information in every chapter for you to catch and remember. Two or three important bits would just be too much. **

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Aster quietly sat on a large mattress, Dodger's makeshift bed, with a hot cup of cocoa in her hands. The boys and Dodger were standing rather far-off in a large huddle, whispering to each other. Ignoring the distance, her quick ears managed to catch snippets of the conversation.

"Now, boys, she can stay here and—"

"Dogger, she's a girl!"

"We can see that, Roger, the question is what to do with her."

"I can think of plenty things to do with her."

"Liam!"

"Sorry, Dodger."

"You _should_ be. I don't want anything to happen to her, and that includes crude jokes, Liam. We may be thieves but we are not murderersor people of that nature. We still manage to keep our gentlemanly nature… Just like that chap…Oh, you know. The one that gave the nobles and coppers bloody 'ell…Eh…"

"Robin Hood?

"Yeah! That one!"

"Got it."

"Now, we can keep her here while we redistribute. She can take the stitching off the handkerchiefs. If we all have to leave, she can probably come with us and sing for pennies or something. She doesn't seem to eat much so we'll still get a fair share of food without having to steal too much more."

"That or we could take her to the local pub and—"

"LIAM!"

"Sorry, Dodger."

"Now, first things first, no one can know she's here—not even Jeremy the fish seller… They trust us more than they'd trust a gypsy… Not saying there's anything wrong with gypsies, of course. I used to live with a delightful old gypsy chap before Fagin found me."

Aster quickly stood, deposited her hot cocoa on the floor, and ungracefully squirmed her way through the ring of boys towards the center and Dodger. A blonde haired, blue eyed boy perhaps a year younger than Dodger stood talking to the top-hatted ringleader. She shoved the boy out of the way and looked up into the Dodger's face, her eyes dark and determined.

"I'm not going to sit here and sew like an old maid! That is _not_ why I came here. I can learn how to thieve like you do; I'm pretty good already."

She lifted her nose high in the air, over-confident and quite cocky.

The blonde boy, Liam, snorted but the Dodger held up a rough hand.

"Alright, then, Aster. We'll test you."

The lads and Aster stood speechless for a second before Dodger pushed Liam to the middle of the room. He then pulled out a handkerchief and chained watch and put them in Liam's pockets, deep to the seam.

"A simple, beginner test. Take them both…without Liam catching you."

"Ai…" Aster shook herself out of a daze and walked to the center of the room.

"Liam is a fine gentleman on a stroll in the park."

Liam, the best actor of the lot next to Dodger, followed his lead and began to strut across the room, swinging an imaginary cane. Aster also began acting, untying one of her upper skirts and holding it over her shoulders as she formed a plan. When they were in a few feet of each other, Liam raised his hand to an imaginary hat in respect while Aster slowly dropped her make-shift shawl to let it tangle in Liam's feet. She quickly fell to her knees and began to untangle it, speaking in an Irish brogue.

"Ai! Ah'm so turribly sorry, sir! 'Tis all meh fault!"

Liam raised his eyebrows, wondering what this insane idea was, but replied in suitwith a nod of his head and began walking again. Aster stood up slowly, and tied her skirt back around her waist. She walked primly to Dodger, her thin lips twisted into a smug smile. Dodger held out both his hands, eyes questioning.

"Well, Miss Aster?"

Aster grinned, turned around to rummage in her layers of skirts and turned back to reveal the gold watch, the white handkerchief, brass shoe buckles and three gold coins.

Dodger blinked in surprise and then turned to a blushing Liam.

"And what is _your_ opinion, O great, powerful, and ignorant one?"

"I felt the absence of my shoe buckles after a second or two, but, Dodger, with a bit of work, she could be as good as one of us older ones," Liam replied earnestly.

The girl-gypsy's face turned up to the Dodger in excited expectation, her finger clutching at her skirts. He smiled down at her eager face and laid both coarse hands on her shoulders. "Alright. You can come with us, but no picking pockets until I'm sure… Comrade Outlaw Aster… Oh, and none of that cockiness. I won't have pupil who thinks she's better than me."

The small boy called Roger spoke up, his tiny, round face gleaming, "'Ave you told 'er about peachin' yet, Dogger?"

Dodger nodded solemnly to Roger and then turned to Aster.

"You don't tell anybody any names, places, hints, actions, or bloomin' anything unless you want me to let Liam sell you to worst tavern he knows."

Aster quickly saluted. "Got it. No telling a 'tall!"

Dodger nodded decisively. "Alright, then. Time to go to bed!"

"Dodger! We're in the middle of a poker game!"  
"I's got te finish my supper!"

"Jest a few more minutes, _please?_"

"Well….alright, then. I'll find Aster a bed or somewhat but by the time she's comfortable, you lot had better be done with whatever yer doin'."

"A'ight, Dodger!"

--------------------------------------------------

_Ah, the safest place is to sleep with thieves, my dear. They always want to know what your next move will be and whether you'll be useful. _

_Why didn't Papa sleep safe, then?_

_Well, dear, in London things are quite a bit different. Your father slept at a place with the wrong sort of thieves; they were robbers and murderers._

_Mummy, who **really** killed Papa? _

_was killed by two very bad men. A tutor named Archier and one his pupils named Roberto._

_Are the bad men gone, Mummy?_

_One is. Another of the students killed the teacher, a right good boy named Jack. _

_How old is he?_

_He's a year older than you, Star. He's twelve. _

**--------------------------------------------------**

**This is the eighteen year old self and by the beard of Zeus, I've got it! I remember something sooo important. Good thing I was revising or I would've missed it… Go back, look close to see if you can figure out what I'm talking aboot…bout. **


	5. In Which She Practices Barrelhiding

**In Which She is Barrelhiding **

**Disclaimer: Gosh! If you're here you already know I own NOTHING!**

**Author's Note: I've heard of the difficulty in the italic flashbacks. Quite simply, the ones at the end of every chapter are Aster's, between her and her mother, and the ones in between are Dodger's. All of Dodger's flashbacks are straight from the book and usually have something like "Jack Dawkins replied, pushing the boy forward." salute Oh, and this story is going to be a bit déjà vu-ish (you'll see my little laugh at this in a few minutes) for a bit. I just need a way to get the bad chap(as in bad character) in there.**

**Oh, and Jack Dawkins is the Dodger…If you didn't know that…Heh.**

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The spicy-sweet smell Aster had been admiring last night now drifted through her distracted dreams and memories, forcing her mind towards waking up. She yawned and stretched, her movements almost bored and cat-like. Blue-black hair hung around her shoulders, disheveled and giving her the appearance of, well, a girl who has been sleeping. The smell seemed to get stronger and she realized someone had brought her sausages.

"Ah, 'ello. What's your name again, dear?"

The small boy grinned slightly and pushed back his brown hair. "M'name's Roger, Miss. These sausages are for you to eat, Dogger said."

Aster's bright eyes laughed quietly, clashing with her solemn face. She took the plate, thankfully, and began to eat the juicy pieces of meat.

Once she was finished, Roger took back the plate and skipped off to somewhere around the corner, leaving Aster to get cleaned up and straightened out. As soon as she was sure he was gone, the gypsy-girl pulled her layered skirts over her head to lie on her petticoats and join at the waist with her billowing blouse. Her deft, delicate hands quickly took back the clouds of hair and pulled them into a braid. The hands then dipped themselves into the water basin near Aster's pile of blankets and came up to wash her face.

Finally, her face clean and her body dressed, Aster walked out of her curtained area towards the large table in the center of the room where everyone was chatting. Dodger approached from the head of the table to talk with her.

"We are going out, today… I think it would be the perfect time to test you. While Liam takes the boys out to the park and then the streets, I'm going to escort you to a little shop that I haven't been to in quite awhile. Alright, then?"

Aster nodded in response.

"Okay. Boys, time to go! Follow Liam and stick to your jobs! Aster, follow me."

Top hat in hand, Dodger led a different way out of the abandoned building, going towards the opposite side of London. It was about noon when the odd two arrived in the market and store section of town. Dodger quickly pushed his hat on his head and beckoned Aster to a familiar old bookstore.

_----_

_They were just emerging from a narrow court not far from the open square in Clerkenwell, which is yet called, by some strange perversion of terms, "The Green:" when the Dodger made a sudden stop; and, laying his finger on his lip, drew his companions back again, with the greatest caution and circumspection._

"_What's the matter?" demanded Oliver._

"_Hush!" replied the Dodger. "Do you see that old cove at the book-stall?"_

"_The old gentleman over the way?" said Oliver. "Yes, I see him."_

"_He'll do," said the Dodger._

_----_

"Do you see that man about our age, Aster?"

"Yes. Do you wish me to take from him?"

Dodger looked up in surprise. His last protégé had not been so eager to become a thief.

"Yes, I wish you to steal his watch."

"Got it, Dodger."

Aster quickly weaved herself in between the crowds towards the book-stall. She picked up a classic and walked over to the young man.

"Hello, sir? I would nae normally bother such a gentleman as yerself, but my lady sent me out to buy a book for her and, ah, I'm so embarrassed…but I can nae read. She described the story to me…Could ya, please Yer Worship, tell me what this book is aboot?"

Dodger blinked as the man looked in the book, skimming through it to get some inkling of what it was about. As the Dodger watched the young man's strangely familiar hands, a cold pit dropped in his stomach; he almost cried no as Aster swiftly began reaching towards the gentleman's pocket, her movements hidden by her scarves…Unfortunately, the only possible witness was currently witnessing. The store owner quickly ran towards the two.

"Sir! She's a thief, sir!"

Dodger rolled his eyes, but had the grace to look worried as he quickly ran up and pulled Aster away from the man, dropping the watch and running towards an alley and followed by a variety of people who had taken up the cry.

"This is not good…Your first day and you get witnessed!"

"It's not my fault! I'm more used to crowded settings."

"It doesn't matter anymore. Here, hide behind this barrel."

Dodger pushed the girl behind a barrel and ran into the crowd. "She went this way; follow me!"

After a few minutes, Aster felt safe enough to get out from behind the barrel…Unfortunately, she chose to do so just as the book seller was coming back by.

"Aha! There you are. I've got you now! Come on. The fine gentleman is waiting near the small courthouse for someone to find you."

And so, the man dragged a struggling Aster all the way to the young man, and her hearing.

**--------------------------------------------------**

Dodger spit out a long line of curses as he traveled back to the building. After almost getting away, that idiot girl had taken it in her head to leave the barrel and get caught before he came back… He stormed into the thieves' headquarters and sighed at all the expectant faces looking up at him.

"She got caught. She might be able to act but she has no wits, I swear!"

Liam shook his head. "She's good, Dodger, but it's all raw talent. Perhaps she's just used to crowded settings. We should have taught her more before you decided to take her out."

Jack Dawkins frowned down at Liam, unimpressed by this statement. "We have to get her back, Liam. We'll go to the hearing and see what happens… I don't think she'll peach, but I'm not sure."

The small boy called Roger swung his legs from his high place on the table. "This is like that deggy blu thing Fagan used to talk about."

Liam grinned slightly and turned to Dodger. "It'll be fine if it is a sort of déjà vu circumstance. Maybe this could work out to our advantage…Your connections got you out of the university and back here…This could a good thing."

Rough hands wrung themselves tightly. "No, Liam… I'm afraid it won't be fine... I recognize that man she was stealing from… And he isn't the chap she needs to get to know."

**--------------------------------------------------**

_Mother, tell me the story again._

_Again, Star? You've heard it ever since it happened. Aren't you a bit old for stories?_

_Please, Mother? It's so happy in the end…I need some hope before I leave to London. And you said it really happened. Aren't I 'posed to know history?_

_Yes, dear, you are. Well, alright. It can't hurt. A few years ago, there was a small boy named Oliver whose mother had died when he was born…_


	6. In Which She is Judged

**In Which She is Judged**

**Disclaimer: You know it already….Sticks out tongue So leave me alone.**

**Author's Note: I'm so utterly, totally, completely, absolutely, positively, definitely, entirely, wholly, fully, unreservedly, wholeheartedly glad that y'all (_18: Ya'll? Did I really say y'all? I apologize…) _are enjoying my story. I personally didn't think it would turn out to be a hit with even one person, but you all seem to at least act like you enjoy it, even if you don't. I just wanted to give a tiny thanks. Thanks. - If things here seem to get TOO repetitive of the book and/or movies, just remember that I'm doing it to lead up to something that needs to happen.**

(**_18: Truthfully, these last few instances could be seen as blatant plagiarism…but I do know what I meant…I needed someway to get her in His house. Oh, and it's amazing how I have sooo many hits…and one review. I know I don't like it when authors complain about reviews…but I really need some criticism and encouragement…And if you want to know, Chapter 7 is finished…But you don't get anymore until I get some help. :P)_**

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The black-robed man was quietly snoring as the guard presented the case. No one seemed disturbed by this; the man was probably one of the worst judges chosen to do anything. He mostly dealt with juvenile cases—causing half of them to end up in places worse than they deserved. His jowls hung in rows of disgusting fat and his nose was flat, causing the middle age man to look like a rather large pig. He regularly bent down, ducking his head behind the stand to take a sip of his "hidden whiskey." At this exact moment, he was supposed to be listening to the case of a man who was almost robbed in a book shop but didn't want to press charges. Instead, the book-seller was angry that all the thieves liked to steal at _his_ store and wished the thief to go into jail.

Aster, her black hair now pulled back so the judge could see her "filthy, lying, gypsy face", was staring defiantly at the man she almost robbed. Finally, the judge awoke, and looked down at Aster.

"Where'd you learn 'ow to steal, gel?"

"I didn't. Don'tcha know? It's a natural born instinct in gypsies, sir," Aster replied, her face bent in an angry scowl.

"Aha! I knew it…Just as I suspected. All gypsies are liars and robbers." Sarcasm was totally wasted on the imbecile. "Well, that settles it. Guilty as charged by the bookman. Fives years in jail. Court dismissed."

Suddenly, the young man who was-to-be robbed jumped up and appeared near the girl. "Sir, I disagree with your sentence. This young woman never really stole anything from me… All the book keeper saw was her looking very suspicious. In fact, the only thing she could've taken is my watch and it's still here. I believe the book-keeper assumed she was stealing from me and that she was simply frightened and ran."

Aster's face immediately became one of precocious innocence. "Exactly. I'm very hurt by the 'ssumption that I would—eh!"

The young man trodded on her foot and lowered his eyes as if to say "don't overdo it."

The book-keeper sighed, grumbled, and nodded in agreement. "That's true."

The judge rolled his eyes and began muttering. "Filthy nobles…Always trying to do good in the world… Gets flippin' repetitious after awhile. Alright! I give up. The gypsy's in custody of this young idiotic noble whom I hope gets robbed out of his wits. Court dismissed."

Dark eyes widening, Aster looked up at her new keeper who blinked slowly down at her. Suddenly, he shrugged and walked out of the room, making sure Aster was following. They both climbed into a carriage while Aster asked her first question.

"Do you really think I was innocent?"

The young man laughed and laid a charming, white hand upon her knee, whispering confidentially. "Not for a second."

**--------------------------------------------------**

Dodger cursed, making Liam and Roger blink in shock.

"This is absolutely horrible. I don't _know_ if that's the chap, but he's definitely slick enough to be…and his hands…they—"

"If 'oo's the chap, Dogger?"

"The guy who just drove off with our newest member… If it's who I think, we're in trouble."

Liam snorted. "Maybe he just wants Aster to do a little—"

"Liam!"

"Sorry, Dodger."

**--------------------------------------------------**

"Well, here we are, Miss Aster."

As her keeper, the young man named Edward Williams, opened the carriage door for her, Aster looked at her new home. It was set right in the middle of a row of three to four story houses along a street that was right beside a circular park. It was coloured a honey-yellow and was trimmed in white. Four stories high, it was accented with a lovely front yard that was covered in rose bushes and lovely daises. Quickly, Aster snapped shut her open mouth and climbed out, determined not to be amazed by anything in this elegant, beautiful, enchanting place. This young man had no right to assume she wanted to be taken care of, to live in this…lovely house. The coach driver ran up the walkway to open the door for the two and smiled quietly at Aster's astonished look. Edward also grinned before entering the front room and hanging his black cloak on the coat stand. The gypsy girl quickly took in the inside of the house—the curved stairway that led to the bedrooms, the gold and bronze colour scheme, and the two maids who were now hurrying to welcome her.

"Ah, good. Sarah, Gabrielle, I wish for you to meet Miss Aster. She is my guest and will be living with us. Sarah, would you please take her up to the green and blue room? Gabrielle, would you have her measured once she is situated and go and buy her the appropriate attire for this neighborhood? Her present clothes do not suit this establishment."

"Yes, sir," the maids replied as one, curtsying eagerly.

Sarah started bustling up the stairs, dwarfing the trailing Aster in her petticoats and large bone structure. She turned to the right and walked down a long corridor of bedrooms before arriving at the last one.

"Here's your room, dear. I had just aired it out… Master Edward is the one for picking up strangers and taking care of them for awhile. Why, last week there was this old man who…"

At this point, Aster had stopped listening and had instead started examining the room. It was large and a beautiful blue-green colour with many accenting pieces—a green desk and chair, a blue rocking chair and a large, _large_ blue and green bed. The room adjoining the bedroom was a large bathing room complete with blue walls and a porcelain tub.

Aster immediately ran back into the bedroom, delight written on every line of her face. Perhaps this Edward chap was a nice person…

"Ah, the Master is the kindest man alive, I tell you. He's taken in more strays than anyone I know… Of course, Mr. Brownlow took in that nice boy Oliver and then found out they're related. They live right beside us with Ms. Rose and all but I always said, I did, that child looks just like…"

A few keywords broke into Aster's dreaming mind and woke her up. "Oliver? Mr. Brownlow? They live here?"

"Well, yes, dearie, I just said that. Anyways, the poor child was beaten by—"

But by now, Aster was too busy putting together pieces. Hadn't Dodger called himself Jack Dawkins one night? And didn't he talk about Fagin in a sad voice every once in awhile? Mother had never mentioned a nickname for Jack Dawkins…But then she always said she had just heard the story from a visiting girl who claimed to be Nancy's friend. What if the story really was true?

Suddenly, Sarah bustled back in, making Aster realize she didn't notice her leave. Well, it didn't matter if the tale were true… It just meant she had found and lived with a bunch of thieves in a story and was lucky. If what she had caught Sarah saying _was_ true, Aster might as well call herself Ms. Williams the sister and be adopted into the family.

**--------------------------------------------------**

_Mother, since I must wait until summer to go to London, would you please give me some advice or get someone to write down one of your stories?_

_Oh, Star, you've got all my stories memorized and I've given you all the advice I know._

_Then make something up, Mother. _

_**Smile**. Alright then, dear. Take any help you can get and never be too proud. If someone invites you to live with them for awhile or offers you some money because they think gypsies are just animals who are mistreated, don't be hurt…just take what they give you…_

_And what they don't give me, right, Mother?_

_Aster! I want you to learn how to be a well-bred person…Not a thief._

_I'm sorry, Mother…_

**It's too late.**


	7. In Which She is Invited

**In Which She is Invited**

**Disclaimer: I am NOT Charles Dickens. I am a simple female whose only gifts are a somewhat witty mind, writing, singing, acting, humility, perfection, hair, loveliness… You see how self-degrading I am? I could never be Charles Dickens!**

**Author's Note: I have written an author's note in at least most of my chapters, if not all. That is why this is here. I am not the one to mess with tradition. **

_(**18 self: I have added a little section into this chapter to let the readers see the relationships grow…That's always important. Oh, and the italicized memory is Aster's from the day before…)**_

--------------------------------------------------

_Click. Click. Pause. _"Bloody 'ell." _Click. Click._

Aster quickly composed herself before entering the breakfast room. Even though she had been wearing deadly high-heeled shoes and "ladies'" clothing for about two weeks, the awkward boots and long dresses made her feel less like a lady and more like a clumsy clown.

She continued wearing the hooped, foot-long skirts and corsets only because they were lovelier versions of what she wore when she was gypsy girl…and Edward liked them.

A revelation of truth had hit Aster, making her slowly realize how much she needed compliments and pretty things to hide her unrefined self behind in this fresh world. Her new beginning was a place of manners, elegance, dancing, intrigues and romances. It was a strange but delightful, new world.

Why just the other day in the drawing room, had she not been so pleased…

----

"_Miss Aster, you write exceedingly well. I thought that, as a—" _

"_Gypsy?"_

"_Yes, a gypsy..."_

"_You thought I was ignorant."_

_Edward's sparkling eyes met hers and he tipped her head up to see her face more clearly._

"_I could never think you were ignorant."_

_----_

The manservant, Richard, opened the door to the breakfast room, surprising Aster and forcing her to back up into a desk.

"Oh, dear. I'm _sooo_ terribly sorry, Miss. I was just about to send one of the girls to tell you that Master Edward has prepared a picnic lunch for you both to enjoy in the park." His slightly nasal and aloof changed as he winked and whispered, conspiratorially. "I heard him talking about a surprise for you, also."

"Thank you ever so much, Richard," Aster replied, allowing her voice to drift up in the air like a lady's was supposed to and trying not to laugh. "I am honored."

Richard grinned at her as she slipped into the breakfast room to grab a plain biscuit and honeyed scone before charging back up the stairs to read while she waited for lunch time to arrive.

**------------------+--------------------**

Most "civilized" people believe that gypsies are barbaric and know nothing of politics or literature. The truth, however, is very different. Based on studies and stories, Aster concluded that the first gypsies were the smart ones. They knew it was easier to have some else do the work and then just take the credit…or the gold. They knew too much and no one liked it. Aster's theory was largely true.

The main reason people subconsciously dislike gypsies is because they actually _do_ know too much. They are everywhere.

Main meat seller at the market—a gypsy.

Bartender at the Wet Whistle—a gypsy.

And quite a few gypsies make their home and money as ladies of negotiable affection in places of ill repute—the perfect spot to hear about new happenings.

Because they are so unpopular, gypsies have become even more perceptive and spread out…But Aster is the first so far to live in an uncommon, rich place without being and having a bad reputation.

And Aster is very observant.

And Aster reads in to many hidden things.

And something strange creeps its way through Mr. Edward Williams' house.

**------------------+--------------------**

The picnic had been a delightful mix of salads and fruits—light but very filling. Finally, the smacking sounds ceased and Edwards turned to smile to Aster.

"In three days, there will be a masque in honor of one of our neighbors. The boy is Mr. Brownlow's grandson, Oliver, and it is his coming of age party. The maids told me how interested you are in his story, so I've decided to take you with me."

Aster's mouth dropped open in surprise at this announcement. Amused, Edward pushed it closed.

"I've ordered costumes that match in coloration from a master tailor I've previously done business with. Yesterday, I went to see them and I believe he's done a swell job. He finished mine rather quickly and yours two days ago. So? What do you say?"

Aster smiled happily. "Of course I'll go, Edward! It sounds astonishing!"

Quickly, she jumped up and pecked Edward on the cheek. She was so proud of the courage it took her to perform that small feat, she missed the strong, almost harsh smile—or smirk—Edward gave as they started to clear up the plates.

**--------------------------------------------------**

"That rat calls himself "Edward" now! I can't _believe_ she trusts him. Even..."

"—Even if he seems to be a quite jolly chap who just enjoys making her happy? Sounds like you're a bit jealous, Dodger."

Liam began unstitching another handkerchief as he waited for another stream of curses. Instead, however, Dodger smiled fanatically.

"You're right. Maybe he has stopped his t'rribly malicious ways. Still, we're going to that masque to see Oliver and check up on this chap."

Liam sighed as he put down the napkin. "Alright, Dodger."

**--------------------------------------------------**

_Are you happy _now_, Mother?_

_No, Star, there's something wrong about you going to London. I don't care if Rone's taught you everything he knows, Old Woman Inter says something is going to happen to you._

_Mother! You told me yourself that she is just uneducated and can't really read that crystal ball._

_Yes, I did, Star. But that doesn't mean she can't see things that we can't._

_You can't keep me here forever._

_I know, but it doesn't make it any easier. Stay tonight, please? And take this box. Your father carved it. You can store your memories in it._

_Oh, thank you, Mother! ...And, yes, I'll stay tonight._

**--------------------------------------------------**

The last memory Aster stored in her box was the night she left. She ran from the caravan, followed by raiders and the smoke drifting from the burning wagon where her mother's ashes lay.

**--------------------------------------------------**

Sitting in her beautiful room, Aster clicked the box shut and shoved it into one of the drawers. Something was dreadfully wrong.

**--------------------------------------------------**

**18 year old author's note: Next chapter is where I start writing! Woot! Aren't you sooo excited?**


	8. In Which He Wears a Costume

**In Which He Wears a Costume**

**Author's Note: This is where my 18 year old self starts taking over entirely. I must admit I'm rusty and I really don't have much of an idea where to go, but we'll figure it out together. Maybe I'll even start taking suggestions…at my own discretion, of course. Anyways, we know I don't own Charles Dickens work and wotnot… And I hope you enjoy the newest chapter.**

**Oh…and P.S. Aster's memories from now on will be between her father and her younger self….Unless I decide to add some odd people in there. Buh. We'll see what happens.**

---------------------------------------------------

Deep in the heart of London, Jeoff, master tailor, studied his shop, taking in every article of missing clothing and material. The damage was not as bad as he first expected. Two costumes for the upcoming masque ball were missing, along with some scraps of random material.

Luckily, the thieves were too hurried or, perhaps, too ignorant to notice Jeoff's masterpieces; the two exquisite costumes were priceless…well, almost priceless. The fee they cost would more than cover the damage caused last night.

The gentleman who had ordered them was a young man Jeoff had done business with before, back when they were both down on their luck. Now each had risen to a new status and met again…like a nicely controlled circle of happenstance.

**--------------------------------------------------**

Even deeper in the heart of London, past the brightly coloured shops and in the true, dark core, a figure spun across a window.

"So, boys, whaddya think?"

"What _are_ you, Dogger?"

"I'm obviously that Robin Hood chap, Roger. Can't you tell by all the green and the bow and arrers and wotnot?"

"Oh…Well, that's not as exciting as a magician."

"It's a lot more exciting than a bloody toad."

Liam looked up from his brown-and-gold-mottled suit with a scowl, a large scaly mask clenched tightly in his hands.

Dodger laughed, his voice soaring throughout the room like a young boy's.

"Oh, get over it, Liam. I'm the ringleader, I get the spiffy costume. At least you get to go…and who knows, maybe there'll be a nice young lady toad there tonight."

Liam brightened. "Ya think?"

"Oh, yeah… She'll probably leave you for a frog, but she'll be there."

"Oh, bugger off."

Ignoring Liam, Dodger called all the other boys together in a huddle to tell them his plans.

"Alright, mates, here's the deal. Aster's quite taken with this Edward, and I'm quite—"

Liam interjected. "Taken with Aster?"

Dodger's death glare sizzled right through Liam's costume. "Bloody 'ell, no. I was going to say that I'm quite worried he's this, ahem, _bad egg_ I knew a long, long time ago. Got it?"

The boys gave him a blank stare.

"A wicked chap."

Still the blank stares.

Rolling his eyes, Dodger sighed and added, "like Sikes."

Suddenly, the room was a hurricane of noise and activity. Small boys ducked behind the larger ones, who themselves grimaced and tried to find even larger boys to hide behind.

After finally managing to calm the lads down, Dodger continued. "Liam thinks he's changed, but I still don't like the looks of him. Those hands of his…Eh, well, anyway, me and Liam are headin' off to this fancy 'fair to check things out and ask Oliver if he knows anything about the man…And maybe we'll be able to get Aster back, too."

A piping voice emerged from the crowd. "Before she peaches?"

Dodger nodded. "That's a possibility…And before she gets hurt."

**--------------------------------------------------**

Aster spun around the room, dodging Sarah and Gabrielle as they tried to start working on her hair. She finally stopped in front of the floor-length mirror and admired herself. Unlike the elegant, but light day dresses she had been wearing in her new life, the costume dress was long and heavy. The basic dress was black—a tight, ribbon-tied bodice attached to long hooped skirts. The feature that made the dress so astounding was the intricacy of its details. The bodice had small, cap sleeves and was outlined in black ribbons that gave the appearance of layered feathers and the top skirt was _covered_ in died black feathers, with the odd green or purple appearing in the layers.

"Um, Miss?" Gabrielle was busy adjusting a hand-held mask.

"It's so beautiful!" Aster spun again, laughing. She stopped in front of Sarah and rested her hand on Sarah's shoulder. "But whatever am I? A duck?"

Gabrielle laughed as she held up a bejeweled and feathered mask. "You're a swan."

"Swans are white."

Gabrielle rolled her eyes. "We know that, Miss. The master wanted your costumes to match…and stand out. Everyone's wearing white and gold and other such bright colours right now…Although I'm sure that will change after tonight."

Aster grinned conspiratorially. "What's Edward going to be?"

Sarah tapped Aster's nose. "I can't be telling you that, Miss. Mr. Williams gave us strict orders not to answer any questions of that nature."

"However did he know I would ask?"

Gabrielle chuckled. "And he told us to answer that question with, 'She's not the only nosy one.'"

Sarah clucked. "You should have said, '_You're _not the only—"

"Oh, it doesn't matter, Sarah. We only have about an hour or so. Let's take a hot curling rod to her hair."

Aster whirled, her eyes wide. "Take a _what_ to my _what?"_

**--------------------------------------------------**

An hour or so later, Dodger and Liam were on their way to the celebration and Aster was gracefully descending the grand staircase towards Edward's waiting arm, her hair pulled up in a fountain of curls, jewels, and feathers. Edward gave an refined smile as he offered his arm and viewed her finely garbed figure.

"You are stunning, Miss Aster."

Blushing, Aster gave a polished curtsy she had been working at for days and took Edward's arm.

"And quite graceful. I knew a swan was perfect for you."

"You have the advantage, Sir. I cannot compliment your choice of costume for I have no bloomin' idea what it is."

"Don't use the term 'blooming,' Miss Aster. It's vulgar. And have you not guessed?" Edward produced a jeweled mask from seemingly nowhere. "I am a cat."

Aster grinned as she fingered his velvet sleeve. "You seem to be more of a panther, a King of Cats. Well, no matter what you are, you look quite handsome…Even more so than usual."

Edward smiled and raised a finger. "Ah. I forgot to mention how incredibly intelligent and charming you are."

Aster laughed as Richard opened the door to the expecting carriage and Sarah and Gabrielle waved good-bye.

Only Richard observed the irony reflected in the pair's costumes.

**--------------------------------------------------**

_But, Papa, I really want it! If I can take it from her, why can I nae keep it?_

_Oh, silly Star, can yeh nae see? Why do yeh think my troupe makes our own clothes and jewelry? We steal only what we need. We have concocted numerous hoaxes and stolen many things, but only to keep us alive. We do not steal just because we desire something._

_I'm sorry, Papa._

_It's a'right, m'darling… And since yeh've learned yer lesson…And because yeh did an excellent job at snatching it, I'll ask one of the talented embroiderers to make you a scarf prettier than Risha's._

_Oh, thank you, Papa! I love you!_


	9. In Which She Meets Her Idol

**In Which She Meets Her Idol**

**Author's Note: Please forgive my later jibe at famous actors of our time. I promise I'm not making fun of them…But, goodness, I'll be damned if I could think of anything other than those names…**

---------------------------------------------------

All in all, it was a splendid party. A ballroom (at a new country house Mr. Brownlowe had built for his old age) had been decorated in brightly-coloured silks and gauze by a decorator who was, ultimately, working under Miss Rose. Even though Oliver thought the decorations were somewhat feminine for a male coming-of-age party, he was grateful, and, luckily, the bright costumes, tables piled with food, and dim lights distracted guests from the silks. Even though many young people were attending, the masque, it was largely old-fashioned with escorts and even a butle announcing the arrival of new guests at the top of the elegant staircase.

As the young man-of-honor, Oliver was obliged to greet every guest who came through his door and, after fifteen minutes he was seriously considering pulling a Dodger and disappearing. After going through a huge group of elderly ladies who were giggling and gaggling like young girls, Oliver decided to take a well-deserved break and sojourn at a refreshment table. Taking a sip of some water he had hidden behind a pile of crepes, Oliver turned to face the front door just in case a character he could not possibly ignore walked through. Just as he turned, two masked characters entered. The first strutted, obviously proud of his bright green Robin Hood costume, a bunch of fake arrows and a bow were perched across his back. The second, a man dressed in a gold and brown toad-suit, was slightly hunched over and glanced around, as if frightened of being caught. As Oliver watched the pair, he grew more and more aware of the green-clothed man's stance; it was extremely familiar. As the man waved at the other guests, Oliver recognized the flair in character and immediately gave the faceless man a name.

"Dodger." Oliver's whisper carried itself straight to the man's ear, and seconds later he and the toad were standing by Oliver.

"Well, 'ello, young man! We are here to celebrate your manhood! This's a wonderful little party."

"What are you doing here?"

Dodger pouted. "Don't you want to see us?"

"Dodger, if anyone recognizes you, you're dead." Oliver looked around frantically, and dragged the two into a convenient room behind a tapestry. Throwing them into two chairs, he whirled and raised a hand to his head.

"Why are you _really _here, Dodger? And who is the toad?"

Dodger sighed and pulled off his mask. "A'right, I just want you to remember tha' I was going to come here even if there wasn't a problem, Olly, m'boy. Oh, and the toad is Liam. We picked him up afer you left."

Liam grunted as Dodger continued.

"A'right, let me tell you a story…and ask you a few questions about a certain chap."

---------------------------------------------------

The ride to Mr. Brownlowe's country house had been peaceful so far with barely any talking. Aster fumbled ad teased her mask, adjusting feathers and jewels awkwardly, simply looking for something to occupy her gaze. She felt Edward's eyes on her and ignored them, only glancing up occasionally to smile uncomfortably. Finally, she heard his lips part and pause. Glancing up, she watched as he shook his head, closed his lips and cleared his throat.

"Are you frightened, Miss Aster?"

Aster's eyes flashed, not with anger but surprise.

"Of course not."

Edward chuckled and placed his elegant white hand on her thin, fumbling ones.

"Then why, dear, are you playing with your mask?"

Aster sighed and let go of the mask.

"I've never been to something this big before, Edward. I'm going to walk in there, all dressed up, and everyone is going to laugh. I'm no lady and everyone will know it. I can't even act my way through it anymore, because that's dishonest."

Edward grinned and stroked her hand, as if to calm her.

"Look, you silly girl. These people play this game every day. I give you full permission to lie through your teeth tonight… And if anyone doesn't believe you, come complain to me."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. I brought you here to meet Oliver and his grandfather and aunt, and no one else. If you make friends or even fool other people, all the better, but do not think I will be disappointed in you if you are not the center of this masque. Oh." Edward's eyes twinkled. "There is one thing I expect of you tonight: convince Oliver to show you his locket, the one his mother gave him. It has become quite an expensive heirloom, because of the story, you know. I think it would be a special treat for you to see it…And I want you to enjoy yourself tonight."

Aster looked up into Edward's eyes. "Thank you so much, Edward Williams."

Edward reached up and stroked Aster's powdered cheek. "You are so welcome, Aster Gypsy-girl."

---------------------------------------------------

Oliver rubbed his head. "Alright, so wait. Now you want to know about Edward who you say was this other person…"

Dodger nodded. "Yeah. Like, when he first moved into that nice house, how he acts, and what he likes to do and wotnot."

Oliver shrugged. "Well, he moved in about a year ago, and he's definitely a gentleman. He speaks eloquently, he is very athletic and the ladies are quite taken with him. The rumors are that he was raised by his aunt and uncle and they left all their money to him, with the hope he would do something good with it, and he seems to have kept their wish. Last week, he helped open a house for women and children who are living on the streets." Oliver grinned. "In fact, I think you are a little too worried, Dodger. Edward has been nothing but kind to me, and he was very interested in my story. In fact, he says that is why he opened the shelter." Placing a hand on Dodger's shoulder, Oliver bent down to look in his eyes. "Maybe you're over-reacting. We do not even know if it is the same man, and if it is, he seems to have changed…It seems to me you are jealous of this man for taking away your new prize pupil. Dodger, I am grateful for the way you took care of me—that is why I have convinced Grandfather to spring you out of jail, and your other problems so many times—but the best thing that ever happened to me was moving into this new life… Maybe that is what this girl needs. I cannot convince you to leave her alone, but if you do take her back, please keep her wants and needs in mind."

Dodger shook his head. "You don't understand, Oliver…That man is bad news."

Oliver sighed and patted Dodger's shoulder. "Well, let's head back out before someone starts worrying. I will introduce you two as some of my friends from school."

"Eh," Dodger interjected. "Could you make sure not to use Jack or Dawkins? How about Daniel? Daniel… Radcliffe, or something?"

"Of course, Dodger… Mr. Radcliffe. Now let us re-enter."

Oliver pushed back the tapestry and quickly stepped into the room, acknowledging random guests who came to inquire after his earlier whereabouts, to which he replied, "Oh, Mr. Grint, Lady Watson! Have you met Mr. Daniel Radcliffe, and his friend, Mr. Liam… Neeson? I met them at school this year!"

As the three navigated the choppy waters of societal gentlemen and ladies, Aster and Edward exited their carriage and entered the room, standing on the staircase and viewing the ocean of people.

The butler cleared his throat and a few people, including Oliver and his companions, turned to view the newest arrivals.

"Lady Aster and her escort, Mr. Edward Williams."

As the three looked upon the now-almost-unrecognizable young woman, Liam muttered out of the side of his mouth.

"No respectable tavern will take tha' girl now."

"Liam!"

"Sorry. I forgot you fancied he—"

"Liam!"

"Sorry, Dodger."

Oliver watched Dodger's eyes widen as Aster gracefully descended the staircase, holding Edward's arm the entire way.

"Dodger? Are you sure that is the girl you were telling me about? She is a bit too, well, dignified to pass as…"

"That's her."

"How are you sure?"

Dodger chuckled. "She almost nicked one of your presents up there." Dodger turned to a stunned Oliver and added, reassuringly. "Oh, but she looked at that snake that calls himself Edward and put it back."

Oliver smiled. "Well, it is my duty to greet all of my guests, especially ones I have never met. Will you join me?"

"Eh, no." Dodger scratched his head. "Me an' Liam will head to the refreshments and meet up with her later…Oliver." He suddenly became serious. "We're takin' her back. By force if necessary. That man cannot have changed so easily and I can't have her accidentally tellin' him about me and the boys… I noticed there's a door to the garden behind that tapestry room. We'll go that way."

Oliver looked into Dodger's eyes for a moment and then nodded. "As long as you think it is the best thing for the girl…" Oliver gave a pained look. "But do not forget to go back by his house and pick up her clothes. I can only imagine you lugging her around in that gear…And I know you do not think far ahead enough to have considered that. "

---------------------------------------------------

"Careful, Aster," Edward whispered in her ear. "You are making my arm become quite numb."

"Oh!" Aster quickly let go of her death-grip and giggled nervously. "I'm terribly sorry, Edward…but all these people. I feel like they can see right through me."

Edward smiled. "I think we have conceived a character none of them will see around. People would much rather see you as a very rich and mysterious family acquaintance than a girl who came to me from the streets. Remember, people only see what they want to see."

"That's actually what I'm afraid of."

A young man approached the two of them, his simple dress suit and mask standing out from the elegant attire of the guests. He bowed slightly and glanced at Edward. Immediately, Edward became the bustling gentleman.

"Why, Oliver! I have not seen you for a few weeks now! I have been busy entertaining my charming guest. Lady Aster, this is Mr. Oliver Brownlowe, the young man you have heard so much about. Oliver, this is Lady Aster, an old family acquaintance. She is quite taken by your story."

Aster caught the look of surprise in Oliver's eyes at the introduction before he could wipe it away.

"Oh, really?" He took Aster's hand and gently kissed it. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Aster. Any friend of Edward's is a friend of mine."

"Oh, my blo—ah, I mean, thank you, Mr. Brownlowe. I am likewise pleased to meet you."

"Please, call me Oliver. It becomes confusing with two Mr. Brownlowes, and, I must admit, I find the name rather stuffy."

"Oliver."

Oliver nodded and smiled. Suddenly, the music took a turn from soft background to obvious dance. Oliver turned to Edward.

"I would usually concede this dance to you, as Lady Aster is your guest, but do you think, as a favor to me, I could have the first dance."

Edward nodded and flexed his fingers, as if to say "go." Oliver beamed and turned to Aster.

"If I may?"

"Eh, of course."

Rather reluctantly, Aster took his hand. She felt a push from behind and realized Edward was softly hinting for her to go to the floor. Once they were out among the other dancers, Aster looked up at Oliver's boyish face and grinned weakly.

"I'm afraid I'm not very good at dancing. I'd much rather talk to you about your life and story."

"But you are doing a splendid job! And conversation is what dancing is for." Oliver leaned forward, conspiratorially. "No one can be suspicious of us if we talk while we dance. There's nothing else to do out here."

More comfortable, Aster immediately began throwing questions at Oliver, who took the interrogation quite well, telling nearly his entire story in two dances.

"Oliver, do you still have your locket?"

"Well, yes, of course I do. It is very dear to me. In fact, it has become something of a priceless heirloom. We have had many offers for it, but I just cannot seem to let go of it."

"M-may I see it?"

Oliver smiled. "Well, not right now. It is actually in the city house; the one right beside Edward's, in fact. I keep it hidden behind a dusty set of philosophy books in the downstairs library. Of course, I do not believe anyone would try to take it, even if we were robbed, a poor man would not know its value…but I still feel the need to keep it safe."

Aster nodded, but Oliver could see the disappointment in her eyes.

"Perhaps, perhaps you could come by later this week? I could show it to you, and Edward, in fact. I am sure he would like to see it as well."

Aster's face brightened. "That would be splendid, Oliver!"

At that time, however, a certain green-clad young man cut in to dance with the Lady...leaving Oliver to reflect on his offer, and remember Dodger's promise.

---------------------------------------------------

_Papa, why do we dance differently? In the city, they dance slow and pretty._

_Yeh ask the most curious questions, child. But I'll tell yeh. Gypsies dance to show 'ow they feel. We also dance together, in circles and such, often, because it reflects our joined community. To us, it's almost the only time we take off "work." In the city, the 'igh brow ladies and gennel-men dance to bide time and ask questions…and to occasionally show who they have an interest in. Their dance 'as nothin' to do with their big feelin's. There's good things to each side…_

_Do you know how to dance like that, Papa?_

_Yes, little Star, I do. In fact, I teach it to all of my students, in case they find reason to go to London or someplace else where they'd 'ave to dance like tha'. _

_Will you teach me?_

_When I get back from London, I will. _

_Promise?_

_I promise. _

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**AN: Oh, dear how confusing. Mr. Dawkins is acting like he only wants to make sure Aster doesn't peach…**

**Funny thing…Aster and Dodger were originally going to be cousins. Hmmm… No more, no more. **


	10. In Which He and She Meet Again

**In Which He and She Meet Again**

**Author's Note: Well, I've been rather disappointed in the response to this story…As in….the non-existent state of response. And as such (and because I'm going to be terribly busy with school) I'm not writing anymore for now. This chapter, actually, is not even finished; however, I'm putting it up here so I can delete it from my laptop. I make come back someday… It's sad I gave up so quickly…But I have such a busy life. Buh.**

**Sorry to those of you who were actually reading and enjoying this…maybe with a bit more proof of enjoyment, it would have kept up. **

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Aster felt herself being torn from Oliver's arms into another's strong hands. They whirled across the dance floor, gracefully weaving in and out of the other dancers. Aster's eyes could not keep up with her and by the time they had, all the colours and faces around the room were mixed into her head. It took a quiet, completely annoying and unexpected voice to break her of the melody of music and colour.

"What a fancy meetin' you here, pocket thief."

"Jack, you idiot, what're you doing here?"

"Ah!" The Dodger squeezed Aster a bit tighter. "It's Mr. Radcliffe to you, gypsy-girl. And you'd better remember it. I don't want any trouble tonight."

Aster snorted and intentionally stepped on the Dodger's toes, smiling at his grimace. "And it's Lady Aster to you."

"What? No last name of Williams? I would have thought you were married with children, the way you hang all over him like that! …Or maybe you're just his pet."

Aster's eyes flashed. "No fair, _Mr. Radcliffe._ I expect Liam to make statements like that. I wasn't forewarned that you'd be such an idiot, too."

"Eh? D'ya even know what forewarned means? Anyways, we don't have the time for this. Come with me."

The Dodger led Aster off the dance floor and towards the tapestry room. As soon as they were off the dance floor and near the room, Aster jerked away.

"Why do I have to go with you?"

Dodger grimaced, took her hand and vaulted her into the room, looking back to see if anyone noticed before entering himself. He raised a hand to his mask and muttered. "Because I said."

Liam was waiting for both of them in the back room. As soon as they entered, he opened the door.

"I found an old cart in the back, and there're more than enough horses for me to nab one. As long as we travel from the back, first, no one will notice."

Aster whirled around to face the Dodger.

"What is he talking about?"

The Dodger simply took her arm and led her towards the door.

"Wh-I refuse to go anywhere with you! If you even try to take me out of that door, I will scream so loud, everyone will come running."

The Dodger promptly shoved one of his scarves in her mouth. "You're complaints have been heard and promptly ignored." He shoved her to Liam. "Carry her if you have to."

"With that heavy dress?"

"Do it."

"Yes, Dodger."


End file.
